Summer At Snapes
by TragediesPainfulKiss
Summary: Hermione is placed at Severus's house for the summer. NO SLASH! It is a fatherly/mentor fic. Features several Slytherins.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione slumped down into a large chair in Dumbledore's office and stared down at the floor below, unable to meet the headmasters gaze as she feared he'd be able to see right into her mind and discover all her thoughts and memories. Things she had worked very hard to keep hidden and tucked away, so far back into the recesses of her mind that she barely contemplated them until she was forced into doing so by a nightmare. With careful precision and skill she schooled her face into a mask into a manner so convincing she was sure quite a few Slytherin's would be impressed. She wasn't entirely sure it would fool Dumbledore, but it was worth a shot.

She took in a shaky breath, trying to steel herself and muster up her Gryffindor courage. She would certainly need it to talk her way out of the mischief she had gotten herself into only a few short hours ago.

She _knew _her actions had been wrong and illegal but she just _had_ to get away from her parents house, at least for a little while. And it wasn't like she hadn't had plans on going back home and turning back into the good girl she was always expected to be. And honestly, she really was already contrite and regretful. It wasn't as if she were being mistreated or abused; a few uncomfortable touches here and there was hardly anything to be acting out about. And yet she had, acting like the spoiled thirteen-year old her uncle always told her she was.

She struggled to remain calm, assuring herself that Dumbledore would understand and save her from getting into trouble with the Ministry for underage magic. After all, Harry and Ron were _always _getting into mischief and the headmaster was always getting _them _off. He'd do the same for her, she was sure of it.

"Hermione," Dumbledore's voice was jovial as always, "You do understand why you received that letter of expulsion, don't you?"

"I used underage magic." Hermione quoted, still refusing to make eye-contact with the older man.

"Yes, and I _must _say that this behavior is not like you." Dumbledore chastised softly.

Hermione swallowed hard. "I understand," She insisted, "But _please_, don't let them expel me!" She couldn't take such severe consequences, such a punishment would destroy her.

"No child, you'll not be expelled." Dumbledore soothed. "However, I _insist_ you answer my questions now. I dare say you've been avoiding them."

"I told you, sir, my family and I were just having a row. Nothing more." Hermione reiterated the story she had decided to stick with, hoping to fool the headmaster with her repetition and insistence. If anything, maybe he'd take the hint and stop pushing the discussion on the subject.

"And am I correct in assuming that your injuries are a result of said row?" Dumbledore probed gently.

"I told you, sir. I took a tumble down the steps that morning." Hermione fibbed.

"Forgive me for my doubt, my girl, but when I arrived to check up on you I was almost _certain _I saw your father striking you while your uncle held you down."

Hermione refused to show any fear on her face. "You must be mistaken, Headmaster." She insisted.

"_Am _I?" Dumbledore queried.

Hermione bit her lip nervously, hating having to lie. "I believe you are."

"Hermione-"

Whatever the headmaster was about to say was cut off by the sound of three rhythmic raps on on his office door.

"Come in, my boy!" Dumbledore called, infuriating Hermione as she was reluctant for anyone else to get involved in this debacle she had created. Especially one of the other professors.

For the first time since Dumbledore had brought her back to Hogwarts and into his office, Hermione looked up from the ground. Her mood quickly worsened when _Snape _glided in, looking more annoyed and cross than usual. She quickly turned away when the dour professor fixed his angry black eyes on her, returning her own eyes back to patch of carpet she had been eyeing since early morning.

"Might I ask _why _you've called me back to Hogwarts so _bloody _early in the morning?" Snape demanded, seating himself gracefully in a chair next to Hermione's own.

"It appears we have a situation, Severus." Dumbledore explained.

"Headmaster," Hermione protested, "I'd rather this stay between us. _Please_."

"You've said so yourself, Hermione, you simply had a tumble down the steps. I'd hardly think Severus could find fault with you for being injured." Dumbledore reasoned simply.

"Albus, why am I here?" Snape demanded again.

"I'm going to need you to heal Hermione. Poppy's gone abroad for the Summer and you're the next best qualified to do so."

"You couldn't heal a few bruises yourself?" Snape scoffed.

Hermione had yet to look up, but still she could feel the cold black eyes scrutinizing her much more harshly than the sparkling blue ones had. She could feel Snape taking in the bruise swelling her left eye shut, and the bruises on her wrists and running up and down her exposed legs as the only thing she was wearing was a white nightgown two sizes too small. She didn't even have shoes or socks.

"I feel that you're much better at extracting the truth from reluctant students than I am, Severus." Dumbledore replied calmly. " I thought that you might manage to extract a more reasonable answer from Hermione while you healed her."

"I told you, I fell down the stairs!" Hermione insisted, panic starting to fill her because she knew as well as everyone else that it was nearly impossible to lie to Snape. She was almost _positive_, like everyone else, that the potions professor could read people's minds just by _looking _at them.

"Of course you did." Dumbledore placated.

"Oh yes, Albus, _patronize _her. _That'll_ get her talking." Snape sneered.

"There isn't anything to be talked about." Hermione insisted.

"You are a _horrid _liar, Ms. Granger." Snape sneered.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Snape cut her off.

"I will heal her and that is _it_. Whatever you are scheming, Albus, I suggest you stop." He ordered, rising from his chair. "As for you, Ms. Granger- follow me and I'll heal you."

Hermione very reluctantly got to her feet, silently cursing the headmaster for even getting involved in her simple family dispute. Why oh _why _had she ever used her wand? If she hadn't she would still be back at home, her secrets safe and sound and not in danger of being found out.

Bonelessly she trailed after her potions professor, figuring that if she obeyed there would be a _sliver _of hope that he wouldn't force her into talking. It was an unfounded hope, but she clung to it as she followed the very thin man through a door in Dumbledore's office that lead into what was very clearly the headmaster's private rooms.

"In here, Ms. Granger." Snape lead her down a small corridor and jerked a door open, revealing a _very _yellow bathroom within.

"This is all unnecessary, really." Hermione insisted, Snape following after her as she shuffled into the bathroom.

"Believe me, _Granger_, this is no thrill for me _either_." Snape growled. "The more you cooperate, the faster we can be done with this."

"Why can't the Headmaster heal me?" She demanded, exhaustion and hunger and irritation bringing out the worst in her.

"Because _he's _not as good as getting people to talk," Snape drawled, "Now _sit_." He ordered, grabbing her under the armpits and setting her down atop the countertop none too gently.

Hermione frowned at the childlike treatment but kept silent as Snape flicked his wand and summoned a glass container filled with purple goop that _reeked _so strongly of lavender her eyes watered and her nose burned.

"What _is _that?"


	2. Chapter 2

At her question, Professor Snape rolled his eyes and Hermione bit her lip. Why was it so hard for her not to annoy people? What was wrong with her? Shouldn't she have learned by now to keep silent, _especially _around Snape- the man who made it clear that he despised her know-it-all-ism.

"It's a healing salve, Granger." Snape drawled, screwing the lid off the jar in his hands.

"Salve?" She repeated. "I thought that didn't come unto the market until next week?"

"Just _who _do you think invented it, Granger?" He asked, sticking his hand into the gritty-looking goop within the glass jar.

"Oh." She said softly, biting her lip to keep from pestering her professor any more than she was obviously already doing.

Snape simply nodded and grabbed one of her arms, slathering her wrist with the strongly-scented concoction. She had been careful not to flinch, not wanting to bring about any more questions.

In silence she watched, amazed as the bruising disappeared after Snape rubbed the gritty slave into her skin. It was absolutely fascinating to watch the angry marks disappear, and even more surprised that Snape was being gentle and wasn't harassing her or picking on her. She was staring at her newly-healed wrists when she jerked as something touched the skin near her ankle. Looking down she saw Snape had kneeled while she was distracted, and she helplessly stiffened when she she noticed how close he was to the parts she didn't like _anyone _to be near- _especially _males.

"Do _not _kick me, Granger. It will not end well for you." Snape warned, firmly holding onto her foot while he lotioned the bruises with the other.

Hermione held still, already fearful because Snape had _clearly _noticed the way she had harshly jerked at his touch. But it was _instinct_- how could she not. Not that flinching had ever helped her out before, still...she couldn't have helped it if she tried.

"Ms. Granger...you're going to have to finish the rest of your legs." Snape declared, rising to his feet and holding out the jar for her.

Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief she hadn't realized she was holding. She had been terrified that her potions professor would be touching her above the knees. She didn't think she would have been able to keep from protesting at that. Gratefully she scooped up a handful of the goo, smiling slightly when she noticed Snape had turned to face away from her so she could have privacy.

Pulling up the hem of the nightgown that was more a shirt, she held up the tiny inch or so of fabric and generously slathered in the lotion- paying attention in particular to the area between her legs as her uncle was anything but gentle when it came to _that _area of skin.

"I'm done, sir." She said softly, wiping her fingers on her dress.

"Right." Snape nodded primly. "This is going on your eye- it _won't _burn and you're free to open your eye up as soon as I'm done."

She nodded, allowing the skinny man to place a large scoop of the purple salve on her left eye. She was hesitate, but once Snape had backed away she opened her eye, pleased to find that Snape had told the truth and that her eyes wasn't burning or stinging. Amazed, she reached up to touch her previously swollen eye as Snape wiped his hands on his trousers.

"Ms. Granger, you are _hardly _dressed appropriately." Snape scolded, undoing the silver clasp that held his cloak together. "Put this on."

Hermione hesitantly grabbed the black cloak and placed it around herself, nearly drowning in all the excess fabric but grateful that it went down to her knees and relieved she able to cover herself and no longer felt so vulnerable.

"_Much _better." Snape nodded briskly. "Now, Ms. Granger I am sure you are aware of the art of Occlumency?"

Hermione nodded, anxious as she was sure she knew where this conversation was heading. "Yes, It's essentially mind-reading."

"To put it simply, yes," Snape nodded, "But did you happen to know I've mastered that particular art?"

"I figured as much." Hermione answered honestly, swallowing down her nausea and anxiety.

"You wouldn't want someone _raping _your mind would you, Ms. Granger. That would be a very personal evasion, wouldn't it?"

"Very." Hermione agreed, wondering if she should try and run from the bathroom. But Snape was _right _in front of her, she'd never make it. She was essentially trapped.

"Listen well, Granger." Snape drawled, cupping her face in his hands so she couldn't look away. "Not only _can _I carry out such an act, but I _will_, if you chose to make this questioning more difficult than is necessary. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear, sir." Hermione sniffed, hating herself as the tears filled her eyes. She'd _never _be able to lie to Snape. She had no choice but to verbalize the things she liked to pretend never happened or Snape would poke into her mind and see them himself and that was even worse.

"How did you get that bruise on your eye?" Snape questioned, starting his interrogation immediately.

Hermione bit her lip before speaking. "My Father punched me." She admitted.

Snape's eyes widened slightly but he quickly recovered and Hermione started to think she had imagined the look of surprise on her professor's face.

"Why would he do such a thing?" Snape demanded.

Hermione blushed, not wanting to admit to her misbehavior but fearful of having her mind violated. "I wouldn't open my eyes during."

"During what?" Snape almost sounded confused.

"The picture-taking." She groaned, feeling sick as the anxiety built up.

"Why wouldn't you do something as simply as opening your eyes during a picture?" Snape demanded, sounding as unamused as her father had been at her impudence.

"Because I can't pretend I'm somewhere else if I have my eyes open." Hermione forced the words out and hot tears fell on her cheeks immediately after.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he pulled a black handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it at her. "Do you so despise having your picture taken that you have to pretend that you are elsewhere?"

"Yes." She admitted, wiping her face with the fabric.

"Why?" Snape drilled.

"Because I don't like other people to be staring at me when I'm naked." Hermione felt her face drain of color.

"Naked?" Snape's eyes narrowed and he looked sick. "Why are naked pictured being taken of you?"

"So my father can sell them." Hermione admitted, crying in earnest because Snape knew how perverted she was as she allowed all this to happen.

"Who knows about this?"

"My father, my mother, my uncle, and the people who buy the pictures." She forced out, desperately trying to quell the tears that fell freely.

"How long has this been going on?" Snape growled.

"For always. As long as I can remember." She sniffled. "I didn't mean for it to keep happening but-"

"Of course you didn't mean for it to keep happening!" Snape barked, making Hermione flinch. "How'd you get that bruising between your legs, Granger?"

"One of the night-visits from my Uncle, yesterday."

"Night-visits?" Snape questioned, his voice dangerously low. "Why didn't you want a night-visit?"

"Because they hurt." Hermione spluttered. "I thought I'd gotten used to them by now, but it started to hurt again."

"And when you say night-visit I am correct to assume that those entail encounters of an intimate nature?"

"Yes." She breathed, unable to meet her professor's eyes. She didn't need to see his face to know how disgusted he was with her- he could hear it in his voice.

"Take a shower while I speak with the Headmaster." Snape ordered, refusing to even look at her now that he knew her awful secret.

"Please-"

"Calm yourself, Ms. Granger. I will not inform him of the more _personal _forms of abuse." Had Snape not barked the words out, they would have almost been comforting.

"Yes, sir."


	3. Chapter 3

Still crying silently, ashamed and angry at herself, she struggled to remove the much too remove the much too small nightgown. Finally, after a ten minute struggle, she was able to force it off- the seams ripping slightly at the process. Letting the small thing fall to the tile floor she carefully hung up Snape's cloak on a hook, not daring to so much as wrinkle the very soft fabric lest she further bring down Snape's ire. He was already disgusted with her and likely informing Dumbledore about every sordid detail she had been forced to admit. Tossing her blood-stained children's underwear aside without care, she walked over to the shower and pushed the glass door aside.

She hadn't known what to expect, but she was a bit surprised to see the shower chair sitting in the middle of the pristine tub, its presence the only proof she had ever seen of Dumbledore's advanced age. Everything else within the large shower hinted at youthfulness and a flair of femininity if she was to be honest with herself. There were _dozens _of bottles of shampoos and conditioners, face masks and exfoliators. Had she not known any better, she'd have _sworn _she was in a young females bathroom.

Stepping into the shower she cranked the water on, twisting the knob until it began spouting off streams of water that steamed and instantly turned her skin red. It never worked but still she would try, try to scrub away the feelings of filth that clung to her endlessly. Not comfortable enough to use any of the product in the shower she used her nails to scratch away at the metaphorical dirt, careful not to mar up her face for the headmaster and Snape to see. That would bring about _more _questions, the kind that she did not care to answer. Ignoring the burning sensation between her legs, a stinging she had been dealing with since returning home that summer, she stood under the steam for a long while.

When fifteen minutes had passed she finally stepped out and unto the tile, letting the water run so the warm steam wouldn't disappear on her. She really didn't dare to stay under any longer, Snape was impatient and Dumbledore likely wouldn't be very fond of having some invading his private bathroom anymore than was strictly necessary. She redressed, rather reluctantly, in her nightgown and underwear. Her only comfort being that of the large black cloak she was glad to be able to cover herself with. She hadn't wanted to use one of the headmaster's towels, and the cloak was almost just as good. Maybe even better, because it wasn't obnoxiously yellow.

Sighing, she shut the water off, not eager to be returning to Dumbledore's office. Why couldn't the elderly man just listen to her? Why couldn't he had minded his own business and left Hermione back at her house. While she knew the headmaster had _meant _well, he had really only created more problems. And problems were not anything Hermione needed _more _of. What she needed was to be left _alone_.

Walking out of the warm bathroom she made her way back the down the route Snape had lead her, stopping when she reached the door that would bring her out into Dumbledore's office. What were they discussing? Her expulsion, her punishment, her perversity? If she opened the door she'd never find out, they'd stop talking about her openly. She swallowed. She was already in trouble...what more could they do to her. With resolve, she pressed her ear against the door and concentrated on the slightly muffled voices.

"-most disturbing bit of news I've heard all week." Dumbledore sounded weary and disgusted at the same time.

"Indeed." Snape drawled, his voice as impassive as always.

"Are you quite _certain _you're prepared for this task, Severus?" Dumbledore questioned, earning an exasperated sigh from Snape.

"I am _perfectly _prepared, Albus." Snape growled. "Although I do admit I am greatly reluctant to carry out the favor you've asked of me."

"Come now, my boy, I've been forced into asking much more of you." Dumbledore slightly scolded, as much warmth in his voice as Molly and Arthur when they spoke to their children.

"Yes, but that was all in the name of _duty_." Snape protested. "I fail to see how all this falls under the spy of the Order's jurisdiction."

"Severus, you've gone out of your way more than once to do the right thing when it wasn't your duty to do so." Dumbledore chided softly. "You may fool yourself and everyone else into thinking you are a hard man, but I assure you, I know better."

"I'm _sure _I don't know what you're talking about, Albus." Snape muttered darkly.

"Severus _please_, it is not as if I am asking you to take in the offspring of a childhood nemesis."

"No, you've basically already got me doing _that_!" Snape barked.

"Keeping an eye out for Harry does _not _constitute taking him in, Severus." Dumbledore protested.

"It might as well!" Snape exploded. "It's a bloody full-time job keeping him from getting himself killed."

"Severus, do not think that I don't appreciate the effort you put out. I assure you I do."

Snape sighed heavily and a bit overly-dramatic if you asked her. "What next, are you going to have me tutoring Weasley- the remainder of your golden trio?"

"_Enough_, Severus," The headmaster cautioned softly, "I would not ask you for such favors if I though you incapable. The truth of the matter is that I feel you are one best suited for each task I give you. If it were not so I would not ask them of you as I _despise _having to overburden you more than you already are."

Snape heaved a melodramatic sigh. "As you wish, _master_."

Hermione could hear the Headmaster shudder. "_Never _call me that again, Severus."

"Don't look at me like that," Snape protested, "I was only teasing."

"Slavery is _nothing _to be joking about, young man."

"You take things too seriously, Albus!"

"_Me_?" The headmaster let out a loud laugh. "_I'm _the one who takes things too seriously? Oh, my goodness child. I haven't had such a hearty laugh in a while."

"You're mad." Snape muttered darkly.

"Where are you going child?" The headmaster asked suddenly.

There was silence for a few moments, and Hermione began to wonder if Snape had stormed out of the office after the light-natured teasing from Dumbledore. She was about to open the door, more willing to face her punishment if it was just the headmaster, when the door she was leaning against flew open and sent her sprawling to the floor.

"Ms. Granger," Snape purred as she scrambled to her feet, "If you're going to be eavesdropping, you should take care _not _to be caught."

"I'm sorry." She said softly, backing away from Snape and slithering back to the seat she had sat in earlier.

"No need to look so fretful, child." Dumbledore soothed. "Although I must add my own bit of wisdom. Those who listen at doors seldom hear anything good."

"Yes, sir." Hermione nodded, contrite and trying her hardest to look such. "It won't happen again."

"Let's not make promises we don't intend to keep." The Headmaster chuckled as Snape took his seat.

"Yes, sir."

"How are you, Hermione?" The headmaster threw her off guard with the question, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"I'm okay." She lied, fidgeting in her chair as the burning had increased during her shower.

"Are you _certain _you are okay?" The headmaster asked, his gaze penetrating her although she refused to look up from the desk in front of her.

"Yes." She insisted, her agitation increasing when she felt Snape's sharper gaze on her face.

"Did any of the Weasley's ever tell you that renovations are being made to the Burrow?"

Hermione frowned. It was all they had been talking about for weeks.

"Of course they did," She answered, "And don't worry. I think my family's calmed down enough that it'd be safe for me to return."

If Dumbledore was worried about them being _too _cruel with punishments, she was sure they wouldn't kill her. They needed her. And they wanted her...of course they did. She was part of the family, wasn't she? They loved her, they did.

"You _won't _be returning to your parents." Dumbledore insisted. "I could _never _allow that."

"But-"

"Hermione- I could never do that to you." The headmaster insisted.

"You did it to _Harry_." She muttered, irritated that the the elderly man felt he could just interfere with her life like that.

"And I regret it everyday." The old man said sadly, no hint of anger in his voice as her rudeness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so bratty." She said hastily, fearful her punishment would be increased because of it.

"You did, Granger," Snape purred, "And it's alright."

Hermione shook her head. Was she hearing things? Had Snape actually commended her for speaking so rudely? And at the headmaster at that?

"Am I staying with Sirius then?" She asked. "Or Tonks or Remus?" While she knew that what she had allowed was wrong, she was sure that wouldn't get her sent off to Azkaban.

"Oh no, dear." Dumbledore said kindly, giving no indication that he would fill her in on where she was being carted off too.

"With whom than?" She demanded, after a long moment had passed with only the old man's humming to fill the room.

"You like to read, don't you?"

Hermione was getting a tad irritated with the old man, but knew Dumbledore always had a reason for the things he did- most of the time at least.

"Very much." She agreed.

"And you like to experience new things?"

Snape heaved a very loud sigh, and Hermione knew without looking that he was rolling his eyes at the Headmaster's eccentricity.

"Of course."

"How'd you like to experience a different culture?" Dumbledore continued.

"Different culture?" She repeated, letting her confusion show through.

"How would you like to stay with someone who has a _very _large library of both muggle and magical books?"

"I think I'd very much like that." She answered, wondering just how fit that description. Was Dumbledore sending her away to some foreign reform school? Did the wizarding world have those?

"Excellent." The elderly man grinned. "You can stay with Severus for the summer."

Hermione felt her stomach drop and she almost vomited what little food she had left in her stomach unto the floor. She couldn't help but feel trapped. Was this her punishment? What would Snape do to her? He was an ex-death eater wasn't he? Who _knew _what sorts of awful things he knew how to do? She knew Snape wouldn't kill her, but still, this was an awful punishment.

"Am I still expelled as well?" Hermione dared to ask, her only silver lining being that of having the chance to return to school.

"Of course not!" The headmaster said firmly. "This isn't a punishment, why on earth would you think such a thing?"

"Because I let-"

"Hermione- they were in a position of power of you and took unjust advantage of that fact. You are by no means responsible." Dumbledore insisted. "I hope in time you'll come to realize that."


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione stood outside the gates of Hogwarts with Snape at her side, the noon sun finally having rose enough to warm up the June sun. For which she was immensely grateful being she was still slightly damp from her shower of earlier.

"Are you ready?" Snape demanded, holding his arm out stiffly.

"Yes, Sir." She stared at the arm, what did she want him to do?

"We're appirating Ms. Granger, grab my arm." Snape growled. "And hold tightly."

She quickly cooperated, hoping her summer would be bearable if she was extra-obedient and clutched tightly to the pro-offered arm, not daring to be lax with her grip as she had little desire to be splinched on top of everything else.

She groaned loudly as they landed, appirating was _never _fun and especially not so when one hadn't eaten for a few days. Snape hadn't even given her any warning, he had taken off as soon as she had clutched his arm.

"No need to be overdramatic." Snape sighed, giving her a look that clearly meant she was to get it together and _soon_.

"Sorry." She muttered, staring down at the dandelion-spotted grass at her still-bare feet.

"Follow after me, Ms. Granger." Snape ordered, stalking off at his usual brisk pace.

Hermione hurried to follow, finally looking up to take in her yard was mostly fenced in, save for one side which opened up to a large thicket of trees. A well-kept garden, brimming with plants of both a muggle and magical variety took up the majority of the backyard. There was also a very large tree residing within the space, topped with a treehouse that looked _very _old yet still safe. A withered rope supported a tire swing that hung from one of it's branches, the swing moving slightly in the breeze.

The house itself was detached, a single-family house that had a Victorian feel to it. It wasn't overly large (two floors at most) nor the manor she had expected as Snape was a Slytherin, but it was by no means a shack. It was actually quite impressive for a non-Slytherin to own.

"Inside." Snape ordered, opening the back door and holding it open for her.

"Yes, sir." Hermione peeped, ducking under his arm and into a foyer.

"Follow." Snape drawled, brushing past her after he had shut the door and relocked it.

"Yes, sir." Hermione repeated, feeling almost parrot-like as she whispered her response.

She trotted after him obediently, wondering when her punishment would be starting. She briefly thought of running off, but quickly thought better of it. She had no idea about the layout of the town she was in, and she was sure Snape would hunt her down and increase whatever discipline he already had in mind for her.

He had brought her into a living room, the main focal point of the room being the over large fireplace that nearly took up an entire wall. Lining its mantle were dozens of pictures in antique silver frames. In the midst of the photos sat a fat urn, hopefully used to store floor powder and the remains of some relative or _relatives _as the urn really was quite large. An antique grand piano stood off to one side of the room, along with a stradivarius violin that looked almost as old as the piano it stood next to.

As for furniture, it was as gothic and victorian-looking as the rest of the room. A large black sectional sofa stood in front of the fireplace, with a black loveseat to one side and a black leather recliner to the other- the recliner the only piece of furniture that looked anywhere remotely new, although in reality it still had to be fifty years old or more.

"Sir, is that a Sauter piano?" Hermione dared to ask, resisting the urge to go and stroke the magnificent instrument.

"It is." Snape drawled.

"And is that violin a stradivarius?" Oh how she _envied _the man for possessing such wonderful gifts.

"It is, Ms. Granger."

"According to legend, the quality of sound a stradivarius gives off cannot be explained or equaled." She babbled.

"I am well aware of the superiority of its kind, Granger." Snape sneered.

"I didn't mean to sound like a know-it-all." She quickly insisted, trying her hardest to keep Snape's anger from rising. "I was just surprised is all, there's not very many of these instruments left."

Snape heaved another dramatic sigh, making his annoyance known within uttering a single syllable. "Such is the beauty of inheritance, Ms. Granger."

"Beautiful indeed." Hermione muttered. "Are they originals, sir?"

"I'm almost certain they are." Snape agreed. "The violin has been passed down from first born male to first-born male as long as I can remember and signed on the back by each of its owners. Doing the math, it is fair to conclude that it is _indeed _an original. As for the piano, it was here when I inherited the house and it is _also _dated- leading me to the same conclusions."

"Do you play?" She couldn't stop the questions, they came as naturally as breathing.

"I do." Snape confirmed, a strange hint of amusement flashing in his eyes for a brief moment before it quickly disappeared. "Ms. Granger, I will be in the kitchen unpacking. You may feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with the house."

"Unpacking?" Had the headmaster _really _cut into Snape's summer holiday before it even began?

"I just inherited the house a few weeks ago, Granger." Snape clarified. "And as soon as I finish the kitchen, I'll have everything the way I like it. So, if you don't mind-"

"I'm sorry for your loss." Hermione sympathized, knowing inheritances only came with death in the family.

Snape raised a brow. "What loss?" He growled. "It was only a grandmother that I've never met."

"Oh." Hermione oh so gracefully articulated. "I'll just...I'll just have a look-around then, if that's still okay."

"Do so." Snape permitted. "After I am finished in the kitchen, I will see that you are settled into your room."


	5. Chapter 5

_**1st Floor-Living room, kitchen, dining, foyer with grand staircase. **_

_**2nd Floor- Master Suite, Second Bedroom, Bathroom, Third room used as for guests, and bathroom.**_

_**Attic- Makeshift library. **_

_**Basement- Makeshift potion lab, bathroom. More muggle living area. **_

_**Sub basement- Used for storing wine.**_

_**Outside- garden, treehouse, shed, woods**_

Hermione took her time exploring the old house, figuring the more time she spent away from Snape the less angry he could become with her. And in all honesty, she was still expecting some sort of punishment despite the fact that Dumbledore kept telling her there would be none. How could she go unpunished when they now knew what she allowed to happen when she was at home?

She had expected the dining room to be stuffy, afterall it _was _Snape's house and not only that it was ancient, but she was pleasantly surprised to find quite the opposite. Many large windows let in a great amount of natural sunlight, even with the curtains hanging in front of them. A sturdy circular table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by six tables that were clearly made of the same wood from the table.

Avoiding the kitchen, as she didn't want to harass Snape, she opened a door and saw a series of steep, uneven steps leading down into a basement. Taking great care, she grabbed hold of the stairwell and made her descent. She could hardly keep her jaw from dropping when she walked into what was essentially another living room- a _muggle _living room. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Again a large sofa sat in the middle of the room, a recliner next to it. But what shocked her most was the television that was mounted on a wall in front of the furniture. She highly doubted _Snape _had brought all this in, but then again she highly doubted any of his ancestors would have either. It made no sense.

Ignoring her confusion she had gone and opened one of the three doors in the basement, finding herself face to face with nothing but a toilet and sink.

Leaving that room behind she opened the second door, finding herself looking into a nice-sized potions lab. A table and a stool stood in the middle, while shelves surrounded every last wall- housing _hundreds _of ingredients, quite a few she had never even seen before nor read of. The last door in the basement lead down into a very tiny sub-basement that housed nothing more than wine and aside from a rather fat spider, it was completely unremarkable.

She had headed back upstairs after that, and back into the foyer where she made her way of the rather large and grand carpeted stairwell that was _way _more safe than the stairs that had lead down into the lower levels. There were six doors in all; one door sat alone on one wall, while two sat on one of the longer walls and the other two took the other side. The last door sat alone on the other end of the wall.

One of the doors, the one that sat alone, refused to even budge open and Hermione quickly deduced it was Snape's private room and immediately gave up trying to gain entrance for fear that Snape would skin her alive for even touching the door.

Two of the rooms were simply guest rooms, each furnished plentifully and with good taste. While one of the rooms was slightly more feminine than the other, there were no blaring signs that anyone inhabited them. The other two rooms were full bathrooms, clean and pristine and completely gender neutral. And finally, the last door revealed _more _dangerously steep steps, leading up into an attic that to her _delight _was used as a library and housed _thousands _of books in shelves that lined the walls completely. A couch and a recliner sat in the middle, along with a table in front of them. A large desk sat a bit away, planted in front of the only window (A large one) in the attic.

After she was thoroughly satisfied with her exploration she headed back downstairs and found her way to the kitchen. She was shocked yet again to see that it had muggle elements, various gadgets and appliances used by her kind lining the pristine countertops. Snape was standing in front of the sink, meticulously drying a spoon.

"Sir, is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, remembering her manners.

"No, Granger. I'm finished." Snape responded, opening a drawer and carefully placing the silverware inside. "Go into the living room, we need to go over a few things."


	6. Chapter 6

Severus made his way into the living room and seated himself in his recliner, his usual and favorite perch since his Father had died and the coveted chair had fallen into his possession with all its throne-like status that he awarded it as a child.

Granger had chosen to seat herself on the couch, drawing her feet up unto its cushions and hiding her bare legs with his cloak. He sighed, she'd have to dress herself soon. He wasn't going to let someone under his roof run about in such a scandalous state of undress. But that could wait until later, right now Granger needed to know exactly what was expected of her during her stay in his house. Not only would a clear understanding between the two of them keep him from murdering her, it was also clear Granger was on edge and would soon work herself into a fit if she didn't receive some sort of reassurance- no matter how small that reassurance was going to be.

"Would you like me to pick out my switch, sir?" She asked softly. Had Snape not had such sharp hearing, the question would have gone unnoticed.

"What?" He drawled, a bit insulted that the child thought he'd actually resort to such violence- _especially _when she hadn't even done anything wrong.

"Would you like me to pick out my switch, sir?" She was clearly embarrassed, her face face a brilliant shade of red. "I'm sure that tree out back has _quite _a few."

"You think I'm going to take a switch to you?" Severus questioned, taking care to keep his voice even despite the insult the girl was lobbing his way.

"I know you're not allowed to at school, but we're not _at _Hogwarts anymore." She explained, confusion in her voice.

"I am well aware of where you are, Granger." Severus growled. "And I shan't be taking a _switch _to you."

Granger's face immediately went from scarlet to white. "Please, _don't_ use the belt." She whispered. "I know I shouldn't have let them do that to be- but honestly, I was scared _not _to!"

Severus instantly understood the dynamics and emotions coursing through Granger, he had once been in her position. Granted the beatings had been more violent and frequent and sadistic, and had gone on until he was able to get away at 17, but still. He knew her turmoil. And while he did not like the girl, in reality he could scarcely tolerate her, he was not as cruel as Voldemort and he wasn't going to let the girl believe she was at fault. Plus, he was sure Albus wouldn't take too kindly to him if Granger ended up killing herself in his care. And if he was being completely honest he didn't want that blood on his hands either.

"Ms. Granger...for how long did you say your family was abusing you?"

She bit her lip and for a moment Severus feared he would have to deal with a crying teenager _again_ that day. Thankfully she sucked in a breath, albeit shaky, and seemed to get a hold of herself.

"It wasn't _that _bad." She reasoned.

Severus sighed, he could feel a headache coming on. "It was certainly much worse than just a beating every now and then." He drawled, forcing the memories of his own past far from his conscience.

"I deserved it, I never fought hard enough to stop it." She insisted, her eyes planted firmly on his living room floor.

"When did it start?" Severus pressed.

"Ever since I can remember." She admitted, her voice slightly shaky. "I only really starting remembering it clearly when I was five."

"Did your father ever...?"

"It was mostly _always_ my uncle, but sometimes my Father would touch...he never went as far as my uncle though."

"When did it become more than touching?" Severus forced the question out, cursing Albus for bringing this on him.

"I think I was eight...all I remember was that it hurt, _a lot_." Her voice definitely broke and he knew she was crying without being able to see her face. "I didn't know anything was wrong with it at first..._everyone _kept telling me it was okay." She was working herself up into an awful state. "By the time I was old enough to realize it wasn't...wasn't _normal_ it was too late to do anything and so I gave up." She sniffled loudly. "I never meant for it to happen...I thought...I thought they'd get bored of me once I got older..."

Severus waited for more, but after ten minutes off her silently crying he was forced to conclude she was finished talking. And he could hardly blame her. She had admitted much more than he ever would have. He cleared his throat, eager to rid himself of this awkwardness and the sympathetic feeling settling in his skin.

"Let me take you to your room." Severus offered, giving the girl the escape she clearly craved. He was nowhere _near _equipped to handle _this_, Albus expected way too much of him at times.

She followed behind him bonelessly, the only sounds she made being those of her pitiful sniffling.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione tried her hardest to keep her sniffling to a minimum, knowing that tears served no purpose other than to infuriate those who were in charge of meting out discipline. Snape had said he wasn't going to use a belt or a switch, and she was cautiously optimistic that he would just being his hand. She didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize that, so she bit down on her bottom lip to keep any noise from escaping her mouth.

"This room will be yours." Snape declared, opening the guest room that had had a more feminine edge.

"Thank you." She choked out, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Very much."

"You're welcome, Ms. Granger." Snape purred, holding the door open for her as she walked inside.

"The Headmaster gathered your things." Snape explained, pulling a small box out of his pocket. Settling the square on the settee in front of the bed he waved his wand and enlarged it, revealing her school trunk.

"When did he have the time?" Hermione asked, forgetting to keep quiet.

"Who knows how the Headmaster does anything?" Snape retorted. "Ms. Granger, settle yourself in and take a nap. I dare say you've had a long day."

"Yes sir, thank you." She repeated, standing stiffly until Snape had gone and closed the door after her.

Once she was sure she was alone, she dared to look and take in her new quarters. The walls were painted a very soft pink, matching the quilt and pillows that lay atop the large bed in the center of the room. A very aged vanity stood in front a cushioned bench, the mirror large and surprisingly without a single scratch or chip despite its antiquity. A door stood open on one side of the room, revealing a modestly-sized walk in closet with a small two-drawer dresser. A time-worn desk stood in front of a window that looked out to the backyard, provided a spectacular view to whoever used the desk.

Opening her trunk she was glad to see that all of her books had made it, which was really one of the only things besides Crookshanks that she had been worrying about. Crookshanks, she'd have to ask about him later. While he was a _very _clever boy, she didn't really trust her family not to pull any funny business now that she was away. Gingerly she placed her books on the empty bookshelf that stood against a wall, taking great care as she felt like every last thing in that house would crumble with the slightest provocation. As for her clothes, she had never really bothered to take any great care of them despite them being name-brand as her parents refused to let her out looking less than her best. She carelessly hung them on the wooden hangers and was finished with that in under a minute. With that done she threw her ladies items into one of the drawers and closed the closet. Placing her wand on the bedside table, along with a photograph and she, Harry, and Ron, she crawled beneath the padded pink quilt and pulled the blankets up over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She needn't force herself into slumber, she was weak with exhaustion from having been awake since yesterday morning. She was out in seconds.

She finally awoke from her dead-sleep, turning around in her bed to look at the alarm clock on her side table. It was one-thirty- how could she have possibly napped that long? Sitting up she groaned, her bladder uncomfortably full. Scurrying from the bed she quietly trotted to the bathroom directly next to her room. Closing the door very firmly behind her, and quietly, she contemplated locking the door. Was she allowed to do that here? Or would Snape be just as furious as her family became if she used to lock? She bit her lip. While he _could _use his wand to just unlock the door if he so desired, he'd likely still be upset, wouldn't he? She shivered, recalling the time she was nine and her uncle had been forced to pick the lock to her door. That certainly hadn't ended well at all, and she swore she could still feel the fear and pain she had received that night.

It was settled then. She didn't dare to lock the bathroom, for fear Snape would find it just as disrespectful as her family did. Reluctantly she seated herself on the toilet, trying to force herself to force the stream out. She scowled when her body refused to obey, her psyche too convinced Snape would walk in on her to allow her to go. With great irritation she returned to her bedroom and redressed in a pair of jeans and plain pink t-shirt. Maybe she'd be able to slither off into the town library or something, they were sure to have a bathroom she could trust. She could hold it a few hours longer, she was sure of it.

_Meowwww!_

Hermione recognized the sound anywhere, it was Crookshanks. Opening her bedroom door she grinned as Crookshanks jumped into her arms and brushed against her face with adoration in his large yellow eyes as he purred happily and loudly.

_Meowwwwww_! Crookshanks vocalized loudly, playfully batting her face with a fat paw.

"Who's a good boy?" Hermione crooned as her half-kneazle rubbed against her chin.

"A good boy, _indeed_."

Hermione yelped and twisted around to see Snape closing the door that lead up to the attic.

"Sir." She nodded respectfully. "Thank you for getting Crookshanks."

_Meow!_ The half-kneazle seemed to agree and jumped from her arms to wind himself around Snape's legs, leaving brightly colored hair stuck to his black trousers. Surprisingly, Snape didn't seem bothered at it and even reached down to pat the cat's head a few times.

"It was no difficult task, Granger." Snape drawled. "The beast came right over to me, although I can't say he was as kind to your family."

"Sir?" Hermione asked, slightly shivering at the the amused tone in her professor's voice.

"It seems his kneazle-side kicked in and prodded him into mauling your uncle's face," Snape explained, "He did quite a number- almost put the werewolves to shame."

"Crookshanks!" Hermione gasped.

_Meow_. If possible, the cat almost seemed smug as he pawed at Snape's leg. He even grinned, revealing a smile that could rival that of the cheshire cat's.

"Are you hungry, Granger?" Snape demanded. "When did you last eat?"

"I had an apple yesterday." She admitted, not seeing the point in lying to a man who could easily call her out on it.

Snape raised a brow. "Come down to the kitchen for a snack." He ordered her, leading the way as Crookshanks danced between his legs.

For a moment she feared her cat would end up tripping him down the stairs, but Snape was graceful as always and easily maneuvered his steps to compensate for her cats trodding. To her surprise Crookshanks actually seemed to _enjoy _being around Snape, which was odd seeing as he possessed the great gift of discerning character. And while she _knew _Snape was on the Light's side, he was still rather cold and distant. So either she was wrong about Snape or wrong about Crookshanks and she hated to believe either of her preconceived notions was incorrect.

Lead into the kitchen by Snape she seated herself on a stool in front of the island, startling slightly when the man placed a plateful of double-chocolate biscuits in front of her. _Biscuits? _That was certainly unexpected to say the least. Desiring to be polite, she grabbed one and took a nibble. Her eyes widened as the explosion of taste washed over her tongue, and she ate even slower in order to savor the fantastic flavor.

"Sir, these are _fantastic_! Wherever did you buy them?" Perhaps flattery would lessen his ire of her. She doubted it, but it was worth a shot. And the biscuits really were the best she'd ever had, even better than Molly's those she'd never dare let that information get out to the Weasley matriarch.

"They weren't bought, Granger." Snape replied, leaning over the sink to stare out the window into the backyard.

Of _course _Snape had baked them, it certainly made sense. Were baking and brewing really all that different?

"Sir, is there anything you'd like me to be doing during my stay? Anything I should know?"

"If I need you to do any chores, I'll tell you so." Snape answered.

"Are there any rules I should know about?" She pestered.

"This isn't Hogwarts, Granger." Snape sneered. "You don't need to keep up your model student facade here- it will not work."

Her stomach sank; no matter how well she behaved Snape would see through that, see through it and notice how cowardly and imperfect she was. She swallowed down the anxiety, fighting to keep the biscuits down as they were all she had eaten in a great while.

"Keep the house tidy and don't pester me, that's all I ask of you. I don't care what time you go to sleep, but you _will _be quiet after two a.m." Snape warned. "You will be respectful and you _will not _leave this house without my permission, _especially _not after five P.M unless you wish to be ravished at the hands of drunks and hoodrats." Snape continued, still looking out the window. "Keep away from the river, it is much too polluted and dangerous to even _touch_. You'd also do well to stay far from the richer side of town."

"Yes, sir." She nodded. "Is there anything that you'd like me to do now?" She questioned, her appetite completely lost.

"Not at the moment." Snape drawled, still staring out the window.

"May I take a walk around the neighborhood, sir?" She dared to ask, figuring she couldn't bother the man if she was far away from him.

"Not until I've had a chance to introduce you to the neighborhood; those who inhabit Spinner's End do not take kindly to strangers." Snape refused. "You may explore the backyard, Granger."


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione stepped out into the warm afternoon sun, wishing that her uncle hadn't ruined wearing shorts and skirts for her as it was almost entirely too hot out for long pants. But the strong heat was relieved by the slight breeze and something as trivial as temperature couldn't dampen her natural curiosity.

She headed toward the half-dilapidated shed that stood close to the thicket of trees. Beside the little building stood a tree stump, a rusty axe sticking out from the dead wood with a wood splitter settled neatly beside it. Opening the door to the shed she was unsurprised to see a neatly-stacked pile of wood, nor was she shocked to see a tiny work table with a rickety bench settled in front of it. What _puzzled _her was the old wooden box filled with wood-working tools and paint and the piles of carved figurines, painted and littering the table. Clearly Snape had not crafted them, the hand-crafted wood, along with the tools, were coated thickly in dust and even the shed itself had an air of neglect about it.

Leaning down, she stared with open curiosity down at the figurines. She couldn't recognize any of them and she came to conclusion that none of them were of representations of well-known beings. Wagering an educated guess, she assumed they were members of Snape's bloodline as the majority of them sported long black hair and very pallid skin. Snaking down a hand she scooped up one of a young woman and turned it about in her hands, careful to avoid getting splinters. She was thrilled when she noticed something carved into the bottom of the wood.

_Tabitha the Fourth_ it read, carved out in familiar spider-like writing that had withstood the test of time. She rifled through more and more of the figurines, occupying herself by sorting them out appropriately, an easy task as the bottom was stamped and dated with the year of their birth and death. She only ran into problems with the older ones- their names almost indistinguishable and their paint peeled greatly. The oldest one itself, Salazar the Eighth, was so greatly worn that only the white of its skin still remained.

She sorted for a good hour, grouping them into sibling groups as whoever had done the carving hadn't bothered to anymore specific as to which descendants belonged to which particular ancestor- the carver had obviously simply carved a new figure everytime someone within the family had reached the age of twenty or so as all the figures looked to the same age.

But she also ended up with quite a few younger-looking carvings, and she could assume that the maker had known they were going to die and had thus planned accordingly. There were actually quite a few of those, and while it was sad it was common sense. The later back they dated the less medical technology they had. A simple scratch could have been what killed them, and so she sorted them accordingly and thought nothing more of it until she came to an infant that looked rather new.

_Severus the Second; Jan 9, 1960-_

Hermione easily did the math and deduced that this infant was meant to be Professor Snape's. She frowned, had he been sickly as an infant,or had the carver simply died beforehand and desired to finish up one last descendants carving? It was certainly an intriguing mystery, and she was definitely coming back later to further investigate. Placing the baby in the pile with Eileen the Fourth and Priscilla the Third, she decided that Eileen was likely his mother and moved him closer to her. It simply didn't feel right to leave the infant all by himself, even if it _was _inanimate.

Finally leaving the shed she mosied over the large garden, clearly sectioned off by a length of unused dirt that served to separate the muggle side from the magical one. She carefully walked through the rows of each, not wanting to trod anything beneath her feet.

The muggle side housed plenty of vegetables and a great many number of herbs and spices she couldn't recognize. A problem she'd have to solve later, as it would bother her greatly until she knew what they were and what their purposes were. The magical side was much less boring, and more than once she had to quickly step aside to avoid being burned or poked with the thorns of the plants who could sense her nearness and wanted her gone. She poked about a bit more, thinking Professor Sprout would be proud of Snape for his garden, when a tendril of Devil's Snare almost wound itself around her ankle. After that, she was _done._

And that left only the treehouse, as she was almost certain Snape would classify the thicket of trees as going outside the backyard. She didn't dare push his limits when she was at school and _wasn't _a guest in his house, and she surely wasn't going to start now when there weren't any other professor's around to come to her aid.

She was a bit reluctant to scale the old rope ladder that lead up into the treehouse, because it really _was _a rather long way to fall, but her curiosity and courage won out and she made her way up the ten feet and into a rather dusty room that housed a very worn out sofa and a frail-looking table in front of it. Off to one side stood a rickety-looking sewing machine, with a wobbly stool behind it. Noticing another door, she threw it open and was pleased to see it housed a toilet.

Tentatively she pressed the handle, relieved to see the toilet was in working order. She could use _this _bathroom without much worry. Because she'd hear anyone if they started to come up the latter and she'd have _plenty _of time to finish up before they could walk in on her. She didn't even have to worry about locking the door now.

Quickly finishing up, she walked back into the dirty room and noticed an old chest to the side of the chair. Throwing the lid back she was greeted by the sight a myriad of fabric and thread in a rainbow of colors. Riffling through she noticed a half-finished quilt and entertained the idea of finishing it up if Snape would allow her. He might actually say yes, she thought optimistically. Because if she was up here, she'd certainly be out of his hair. She briefly wondered if Snape's grandmother had begun the quilt, but dismissed the though as absurd because it would be a difficult feat for an elderly woman to climb up the steps- not to mention dangerous.

"Hermione?" Snape's voice carried up to the tree and Hermione poked her head out of the only that stood next to the closed door. Sure enough, Snape was standing there with his arms crossed.

"Hermione, come down for supper!" He ordered as soon as he saw her face poking out of the narrow window. "And don't lean so far out that window," He barked, "Do you _want _to break your neck?"

"I'll be right down." She called out, hurrying out the door and down the ladder in a fervored pace in order to avoid infuriating Snape.

She was halfway down the rope ladder when she felt her foot miss a step, yelping she tried to regain her footing but failed. With a loud yelp she felt herself falling backward, down toward the ground that would surely break her at least one of her bones and thus anger Snape who would be forced to deal with it.

She yelped again when she landed, confused as to why her bones were still whole until she realized Snape had caught her before she could hit the grass below.

"_Foolish_ girl!" Snape barked, setting her on her feet. "If you can't be _careful _around that tree I don't want you going up there." He scolded.

"I didn't want you to get angry with me for taking _so _long." She explained, hoping that would at least partially appease the professor.

"Do you think me so unreasonable that I'd expect you to break your neck in order to show your obedience?" Snape demanded.

Hermione felt her face color. "No."

"You'd do well to remember that, Granger."

_**fijasdfhjsdfhadskjfhdaskjfhdskjfhladsjfhadskjfhlaskdfhlkdsjlfhadsjfhlsdkjfhaslkdjfhadskjfhksdjhfsadkjflsadkfhsdljfhsdjfhskjdfhlskdjfhlkadsjfhalsdj**_

_**Bolded Names are those who died before reaching adulthood. Males are 'cursed.'**_

Severus the Second

Eileen the Fourth, Priscilla the Third, Acacius the Fourth

Adolf, Gertrude, Leonard the Third

**Leonard the Second** (Died early, reawakening the need for the multiples) _Much _later Vlad the Second

Torbalt the Second and Ulrich (twins)

Walter the Second, **Albert the Third**

Harold the Second

Charlotte, Karl the Second

Wolfgang the Second

**Milo the Third,** Tabitha the Fourth

Hilda, Gwendolyn, Rachel, Anne, Marie, Theodore the Third

Todd the Second

Albert the Second

Alda, **Brutus the Second,** Augustine, Eunice the Second,

Theodore the Second, **Harold the First**, Albert the First, George

Helga, Julia the Second and Junia the twins, Romeo the Second

Magnus the Second, William the Third, Norman, Octavia, **Olaf, Reginald**

Septima, Tabitha the Third, **Tiberius,** Valentina the Second, Camilla, Rephaim the Fourth

**Demitri**, Frida the Second, Eileen the Third, **Karl the First,** Milo the Second

Florus, Emma, **Franz, **Acacius the Third

Torbalt the First, Julia the First, Priscilla the Second, Tabitha the Second, **Rephaim the Third**

Brutus the First, **Theodore the First,** Severus the First, **William the Second,** Eunice the First, Todd the First, **Hugo **

Abilene, **Bartholomew, Thomas**, William the First, **Romeo the First**

**Magnus the First,** Vlad the First, Frida the First, Eileen the Second

Katherine, Susannah, Virginia, Frank, **Walter the First,** Milo the First, **Clara, Nellie,** Richard, Miles, **Silas**

**Alden the Second** and Asa the Second twins, **Gideon the Second,** Rephaim the Second, Dorcas, Priscilla the First, Eileen the First

Acacius the Second, **Tabitha the First,** Leonard the First, **Wolfgang the First**, Phoebe

Merope the Third, **Rephaim the First,** Valentina the First

Salazar the Eighth, **Gideon the First, Alden the First,** Asa the First, **Acacius the First**


End file.
